I missed the season opener of "House."
I was all ready for it. The sprogs were in bed, and I was all prepared, with a tuna salad sandwich, a drink, and an eager expression upon my face. I had warned everyone: "Do not call me, do not expect me to be on the computer, do not dare to cark it, for I will not care -- "House" will be on."
The Spouse Sparrow turned on the TV, and it was not on. They had switched the times. There, on the screen, instead of my beloved, was some wanker. That wanker from "Office Space," to be precise, the one that looks like the fiance that I dumped. Apparently he has a new show.
If I see Ron Livingston in the street, I will seriously kick his shite in.